open | haven't I given enough?

[castitas]

Who: Kate Marsh + You
What: Catch All.
When: Late October — November + December.
Where: Various.

Content Warnings: N/A, threads will be marked appropriately.

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[castitas]

[ Oh—! Okay, that's even better than before. Not leaning against his arm but his middle instead — absolutely taking the opportunity to snuggle in more comfortably. She keeps her eyes on the book, but her head shifts for a moment — hearing the quiet muffled beat of his heart, listening curiously for a short while. ]

... Velveteen. [ She repeats it softly, a little slowly as she tries to make sure she gets the pronunciation better. She's frowning a little, not quite sure what velveteen is but if it's anything like how it sounds then it does sound pretty nice.

But she doesn't dwell on it too long, and she's frowning a little deeper when what he says next catches her attention: wait a minute—! She looks up with wide eyes and her nose scrunching up — bordering on looking indignant. ]

Wait—! You know a bunny and you didn't even tell me? [ This is the greatest betrayal of her life. ] I wanna see, I have to meet them!

[fidior]

[ Edward pauses when the girl looks up suddenly, alarmed for a sharp moment — did something happen, has she felt something strange, something painful; he hasn't made any direct contact with her skin but maybe just being this close is enough—

....Oh. He blinks owlishly down at her for a moment, before realisation hits and the man finds himself doing something very rare: laughing. It's quiet, soft, a deeper sort of chuckling than anything brash and bright, but it comes from way down in the core of him, some place warm and authentic: amused and so terribly fond. ]

You already have, [ he smiles as his laughter fades, eyes crinkling at the corners, and he lifts his other hand to very gently dot the end of that scrunched-up little nose with the tip of his finger. The gesture is playful but mostly warm; his heart feels so full it might burst. She's so sweet, tucked against him, expressing such childish desire. She has his whole heart scooped up into her palms. ]

You're my little rabbit. See? Your whiskers are just there— [ he leans as though examining, looking her face over and giving a very assured nod before his eyes sweep up to the top of her head, ] —and your ears, too. The finest pair of rabbit's ears I've ever seen, actually. Very fluffy, and floppy.

[castitas]

[ She feels the laugh more than she hears it. It's so soft, but it reverberates in his chest and it comes like a low, gentle rumble of thunder. Nothing scary, or in warning — but a warm pleasant vibration. Kate looks up at him, her wide eyes shrinking a little — huh?.

You already have— no, she's pretty sure she would remember meeting a bunny—

He gently presses a finger to her nose and she squirms, her face scrunching up a little more — making a soft sound of amusement because it tickles. A hand of her own to wipe at nose afterwards, scrubbing briefly. But as he continues, explaining what he means, she goes quiet and shy — the tiniest of smiles curling at her lips. No one ever called them their little rabbit before. She stares up at him, still smiling and twisting her fingers—

Something clicks into place, gentle-like in her mind and her expression softens. She remembers more and more about herself every day, bits and pieces here and there. It makes the world less scary at times. But this time it's just about her — it's about him. ]

... I think I remember you.

[ While she knows Edward Little is someone who feels safe — there's still so much that feels unfamiliar. But then it's there, a moment, then two; things falling into place that makes her pause. ]

You gave me your coat, when we first met. When it was before— [ Before what? She's not quite sure. Maybe that's not what's important right now. ] I was scared, and sad and... it was really cold.

You were... always there was I was scared, or sad. You made it better.

[fidior]

[ He knows memory is strange in Kate. He's been careful with what he says and how, and has generally tried to avoid filling in any missing gaps that she may have — not wanting to risk overwhelming or frightening her. Openly, Edward just gently accepts whatever knowledge she has, or thinks she has, whether it's altogether accurate of her existence in this place or not. He's fortunate to have Wynonna to work with on that front, when Kate is staying over with them.

Perhaps there's a risk in saying what he does now, to Kate. It may be... too personal, too attached, too affectionate, the sort of thing that may confuse her. He knows that the girl understands they're on good terms, but she doesn't really know who he is, does she? Not in the context of her older self, the young woman he's bonded with over the past two years. But the affection comes without his having to plan or reason it; it comes as naturally as anything. As naturally as that laughter he'd given, or the soft-eyed smile as he watches her.

'... I think I remember you.'

He pauses again, looking down at her, smile not quite leaving: just fading into something softer, more reserved as he listens. And... now it's his turn for his eyes to widen a bit, for surprise to register in his features as she reveals more memory of him, of them, together. It makes something in his chest tighten, aching; he nods, gently. ]

You and I have known each other for a long time. You were one of my very first friends here. [ He smiles again, pulls the expression up and has to work to make it stay, because suddenly it's hard to breathe altogether correctly, that tightness in his chest moving up to a lump in his throat. Edward swallows, keeps going, voice quiet. ]

There have been times I have been scared and sad, as well. This place is very far from my home. [ A pause as he feels a truth fluttering around in his heart like a little butterfly, and after a long pause, is able to voice it. ]

But you made it better, too. Made me feel as though.... I have a home here.

[castitas]

[ In the last few days, she's ever tried to force it. Never tried to chase the memories, the things that are familiar. Even as a child, patience has lingered and she's just quietly waited for things to become clearer. The others have helped: Wynonna, John, Bigby and Rorschach, Edward, too. Let things come to her on her own, in her own time. But now, she tries hard to remember, tries to reclaim what's too foggy in her head. She wants to remember again, wants to remember him and the shape he fills in her life.

You are not a waste— to me.

He told her that once, she remembers. When she was scared and so very sad, when she just wanted to sleep forever. It's an uncomfortable thought, going to sleep forever because no one can sleep that long. But there's something in it that's comforting. She felt so small, that day — for reasons she cannot understand. ]

I'm... not a waste to you. [ She repeats the words softly, a little shyly, even if she cannot understand the meaning or why she had felt that way. She understands the weight of those words. She knows it was important as to why he'd told her that. He's always made it better for her, and she for him in turn. A little light and warmth and light in the dark. Neither of them are a waste. ]

It's a long way away for me, too. My mom, and my dad— [ And... she frowns a little, unsure, sisters? She has sisters, she thinks. She isn't sure. She feels too little for sisters. ] But... you do got a home here.

[ There's a smile, bright as she insists. Of course he does. But she considers for a long moment, staring up at him — trying to work through it, through what's in her head right now. ]

I— don't think it's friends. Or— maybe it was—? [ The shape of him in her life and how he fits into it has changed over time. She shifts a little; pulling away and sitting up — turning to face him, looking him over as if doing some quiet examination of his face. ] ... My dad looks like me.

[ They have the same hair, same eyes. Her dad is clean shaven. He wears glasses. He is tall and gentle and kind. Kate reaches forwards for Edward, gently tugs at a lock of his hair to inspect it. His hair his dark and thick, his cheeks obscured with mutton-chops, his skin has known the bite of the cold. His eyes are dark too — and sad, she thinks. His eyes are often so sad. She hums softly in thought. ]

You don't look like me, not like my dad. [ And that's okay, she thinks. That's not what matters. ] But you feel like he does. That's what you are to me.

[ She pokes at her chest, to her heart, with one of her fingers. ]

In here. I know that, I remember it.

[fidior]

[ 'I'm... not a waste to you.'

It completely startles him, those words. They're familiar, of course they're familiar — the concept of them. He's never forgotten. His own memory is warped in its ways; sometimes the pieces of it are wrong, and he's aware that they're wrong, and it is a strange, saddening loss. He can no longer remember all of his sibling's names. He cannot be sure if his mother's eyes are brown or blue. He's forgotten what colour Captain Crozier's are, too.

There are things, moments, in this place that he's forgotten. But not that. Kate standing on the precipice of the basin, eyes haunted. Wanting to be nothing. Thinking that she had no value, provided nothing, to anyone. His heart broke right open then, and when she came to his extended hand, that same heart swallowed her up whole. Not to consume her, not to take her, but to surround her, to love her. He knew then that he would do anything to keep her safe: that kind, gentle young woman with the sad eyes, who knew the sort of loneliness that he himself has known.

Edward stares widely as he listens to her words, as she slowly sifts through them, openly stunned. Then— as she reaches to take a lock of his hair for a moment, speaking of her parents, her father, and he realises what it is that Kate is saying, really saying...

'That's what you are to me.'

Something crumbles to pieces within him. Edward physically feels it, something breaking. It renders him completely speechless, mouth open, chest pinched so tight he can barely breathe. Then— his eyes are welling as emotion claims him, and he gives a soft helpless sound, a sort of gasp: an exhale.

She compares him to her father. To a father — that he is a father to her, and he's never.... known anything like this, before. At once, Edward's suddenly aware that the moisture has filled the lids of his eyes too much, that there's wet pooling over, and he finally moves from his stun, the book momentarily left against his lap so that his hand can reach up and brush his sleeve to his eyes. It's everything he can do to keep the emotion contained enough that it doesn't fully claim him, that it keeps him choked up instead of weeping freely. ]

I— apologise, I— [ His voice comes out thick, wet; he sniffles. ]

That....... It means a very great deal to me. It makes me feel... happy, I— Thank you.

[ His heart aches with it, and there are unspoken things that fill up each chamber, things that spill up and out just as his tears do. After a long moment in which he gathers himself enough that he can keep speaking, he has to continue, has to voice what's there in his heart. ]

You mean... more to me than I can say. It has been my dearest privilege to be a part of your home here. And I... I would be proud to call you my daughter. I would be so very proud of that, the way I am proud of you.

[castitas]

[ She's not sure what the make of the tears, at first. Her lips parting in a soft inhale and eye widening a little as she stares up at him. She knows, deep down, she hasn't said something wrong; that she hasn't said something hurtful. Of course she hasn't. But perhaps, she has misjudged the weight of that particular blow of brutal honesty — an honesty not clouded by introversion of her usual self.

The reaction makes her quietly stare until he says he's happy, and she's shifting again. Kate pulls the long sleeve of her nightshirt over her hand, reaching up for his face to start wiping at his sodden cheeks. They're happy tears. ]

Don't be sorry, it's okay. [ There's a gentle fierceness as she insist that. There's no apologies needed for crying, especially not for happy tears. ] Never be sorry for crying.

[ She's fussing gently over him for a few minutes before she sits back again to let him compose himself. She goes all shy again when he tells her he's proud of her, her cheeks flushing and she's wringing her hands — a little nervous hum tinged with a giggle. ]

I'm glad you found me in the snow. I needed you, and you were always there. You always seem to find me when I need you. [ She's still shy for a moment but she does brighten, her mouth widening into a beaming smile — laughing. ] It's gonna be super confusing if my dad turns up and I call you both dad. Maybe you can be another name or something.

[ She pauses, thinking before she utters in a loud whisper. ]

Lieutenant-Dad—!

[ Okay, that's just silly. ]

[fidior]

[ Even as a much younger soul, Kate has that same gentle kindness, something tender and safe. It's a trait he'd always been drawn to in the young woman, able to find a certain solace in her company. And now... she reaches to gently brush her sleeve against his cheek, and that makes him cry a little bit more, but it's— happy tears, yes. Very happy ones.

He smiles, breathing in against a wet sound, and as he listens to her speak again, her words sweet and shy, the ache up under his sternum persists — 'You always seem to find me when I need you.'

It's a concept that he's shared with Wynonna Earp, too. A thing he reflects on so often: how precious his bonds are with the people here, with those he's come to love. Edward would do anything to protect them. He'd die for them. He'll come find Kate again and again, for as long as he's able to keep fighting.

He lets her keep speaking through her shy words, before the sound of child's mirth makes his heart warm again, and he's once more struck speechless by what the girl says. (There's another quiet sorrow as she mentions her father; Edward knows the man won't appear here, that the chances of her parents finding her again are... slim to none, and he wishes it weren't so, wishes she could be with her family again.)

'Lieutenant-Dad'.

He blinks, startled, then delighted, tickled, touched — wet eyes crinkling up at the corners as a warm, pleasant laugh of his own rumbles from deep in his belly. ]

Of all the titles to be bestowed upon me, that one would give me the greatest honour, Miss Kate. I would wear it with pride.

[ He means it, and after just a brief pause, his grasp against the girl tightens, slow and soft but warm, affectionate, as he gives her a hug like that; she's so darling. ]

I'm sure your father is very proud of you, too. I know that he is. And when you see him again, you'll have many adventures to tell him of. Adventures with me, with Miss Earp, and with the others here.

[ There's a quiet vow within himself: Edward will take care of her for the other man, in this place. ]

[castitas]

[ It is the truth. More truths than she could possibly hope to utter as a young adult, so careful with herself. But it's how she feels, and what she knows. He's always been there for her, she remembers that now. He was there for her, right from the start of things. He always made it better.

Her expression slowly brightens, and she's delighted at that: the greatest honour. It was something silly, in all honesty. But the fact he takes it so seriously to heart, hearing him laugh — a real laugh — makes her so happy. He hugs her and she laughs a little, hugging him back (she remembers he's really good at hugs, even if they don't happen often. She totally has to take advantage of this.) ]

... Don't tell the Navy I promoted you.

[ It's uttered in another loud whisper. Does she have anything to do with Her Majesty's Royal Navy? No. Does she think Her Majesty's Royal Navy is something super serious and there could be some sort of trouble on her for promoting someone when she doesn't have any power or say-so? ... Maybe.

She does go all shy again, her mouth pressed together as she smiles and nods. ]

I'm sad he's not around, but it's okay. I'll see him soon enough, and I have you anyways. [ And Wynonna, too. Which... speaking of Wynonna, Kate's head shifts to look for a clock, but she can't find one. She doesn't know what time it is, but she know Wynonna'll be up soon enough and Edward will be demoted to sleeping on the floor, like he has been the past couple of nights— ]

Can we still read? Do we still have time?

[fidior]

[ Edward laughs again at that, softer this time but no less genuinely amused, genuinely happy, free arm lifting to brush his fingers across his eyes again for a moment — tears no longer slipping from the corners of his eyes, but some lingering moisture gathering, hot and wet against his lids. ]

It shall be our secret.

[ He smiles, this time wide enough that his eyes disappear into half-moons, that his mouth lifts to expose the sharp slant of his canines. His heart is so full it threatens to burst: a sensation he welcomes lovingly as he lowers his arm again to readjust his position, and when Kate speaks again he's sobering just a bit, looking down at her, smile softening.

He'd never lie to her — he won't claim as to how or when she might see her father, her parents, again. But he has to... maintain hope. He won't share his dark, aching thought: the one that thinks she likely won't reunite with her parents, the same way he won't reunite with his own. But.... even so, there is some hope, isn't there? Something that lingers at the end, far out in the distance. The little girl has a family that loves her dearly; she must keep remembering this. And sometimes, even when one knows in one's mind that the hope they're clinging to has no real merit, it still.... helps. Still keeps one going. He'd known that, out on the ice. There came a time when Edward knew, in his logical mind, that hope was lost. Still his heart insisted. Until the very end, it insisted.

His softer smile stays, and then he's giving a little nod, reaching to lift the book again and prop it on his lap. He moves his arm around her to fit more comfortably again after the brief bit of moving around a little, and settles in against Kate like that: warm, safe. ]

We have time, [ he assures her, fingers lifting to brush the book open, to gently find the first page. And he'll read through the story, voice slow and calm, heart full, all the way to the end, even if the girl drifts asleep somewhere inbetween. ]